I'm Not Him and He's Not Me!
by MrsCumberbatch
Summary: One morning they wake up and realise that something had changed them... But what is it? They swapped bodies! They can't find a quick solution, so the only thing they can do now is living the other's life... or at least try! COMPLETE
1. Body Swap!

**Summary: One morning they woke up and realise that something had changed on them... But what is it? They swapped bodies! They can't find a quick solution, so the only thing they can do now is living the other's life... or at least try!**

* * *

><p>"So what do we do now?"<p>

"I don't know! I don't even now how we..." The detective trailed off as he let his new eyes investigate his new body. "How we..." For God's sake! He had just admitted he didn't know something! "How this happened!"

They were clueless, speechless to say the least. Something strange, something that you only read on fiction books was happening to them. It was like they were characters of a fantasy tale since the moment they woke up. And not having a single idea of what was going on- No, they knew what was going on, the thing is that they didn't know how this happened.

It was exactly 8.01 in the morning when his mobile alarm woke him up from his deepest dream. He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands and turned off the sound. He didn't remembered setting an alarm, not even so early. When his eyes caught the ceiling he noticed something strange. That wasn't his room, and that wasn't his bed. And the mobile he was holding in his hand wasn't his. What he was doing in John's room? And where was John?

Sherlock walked down the stairs to the living room looking for John and maybe for an explanation when he saw his own body lying sleeping over the sofa. Something was wrong. Immediately he turned his face to his telly, and his reflection was different. He wasn't tall, his hair wasn't dark and curly and-

He looked like John, like the Army Doctor John H. Watson.

A scream woke his body from the sofa and when their eyes met they knew _it_ without saying a word.

They had swapped bodies.

How?

"Oh my God. We should call Mycroft -"

"No!"

"So what do you suggest we should do?" John asked with his new baritone voice. "Because we need to get back to our bodies! I have a work to attend to and a girlfriend -"

Sherlock, now in John's body closed his eyes and sighed furiously before answering to his flatmate. "You're not the only one who has a life! I've cases to investigate! And look at us now... I'm trapped in your body!"

John, now into Sherlock's body felt it like an insult and fell defeated on his chair. They look at each other and they knew from that moment that the only thing they could do was to wait. Live the other's life and act like the other while they could get a solution and get back to their bodies, get back to their lives.

"We know we can't change this, at least not now, Sherlock."

"Good deduction, John," Sherlock said sarcastically.

John pinched the bridge of his new nose. "So what do we do now?"

John, now in Sherlock's body, watched how the detective was examining his new body. He seemed to be a little bit disappointed. Now he was shorter, blonde, with more weight and with a scar on his left shoulder.

And the doctor, now in Sherlock's body, was looking himself in the mirror. He was all the opposite of what he used to be: he was taller, he had dark curly hair and with a slender body. The physical change maybe wasn't as bad as he though, but there were important things to think about the change.

How were they meant to leave their lives now?

John looked away from the mirror and sat beside his body, now Sherlock's new body. How were they going to manage this? The idea of Sherlock acting like him made him smile: he couldn't even imagine his flatmate the only 'Consulting Detective' in the world being nice, smiling to his patients, wearing the jumpers he had classified as 'dull' and not even talk about Sarah. Maybe they should tell this to Sarah and -

"I know what are you thinking and it's the only thing we can do now."

"What -"

"You're going to be me, and I'm going to be you." Sherlock said.

After all, that was all they could do.


	2. Kisses!

"No Sherlock, that's definitely the worst idea I've ever heard coming from you!"

The doctor, now trapped inside his flatmate's body felt lost to say the least. Sherlock's idea was simple, yes, but it didn't sound good. Not for him, and he knew that the detective's idea was not good.

A lot not good.

"It's simple, you can't deny it." The detective snapped.

John rolled his now grey eyes. "Yes, it's simple but not fair. I have a job and a life, Sherlock. And you too. We can't stay here all our lives -"

"No one said during all our lives!"

"But we don't know how much this is going to last!" John almost shouted. "We can get back to normal in- in- tomorrow maybe, or in a month or this can take even a whole year!"

Sherlock rolled his now dark blue eyes and passed a hand over his hair. He felt so different now. Not only the physical aspects, no. He felt different, he wasn't in his body and that was annoying. He wanted to be back to it as soon as he could, but the doctor was_ right_. They didn't have any clue of how long they had to be in the other's body, let alone how everything started.

"So tell me, Dr John Watson now looking like me, Sherlock Holmes," The detective snapped. "What do you suggest?"

John couldn't believe what he was hearing. The detective, his flatmate, looked so calm and peaceful while he wanted to throw himself down to the streets and die. He wanted to go back to his body and live his life. He wished he could, somehow, revert their change, but no matter how much he thought about it _they_ couldn't do anything more than wait.

"We have to go and tell this to everyone. First to Sarah because my shift starts in two hours and then, we go to the Yard and you explain all this to Greg," John said, trying to sound as much calm as he could. "Then, I'm going to work as the doctor I am and you as the detective you are. We can't hide this from all of them and act like the other, Sherlock."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't know how to check on a patient and let's not even talk about prescribing medicines, and I can't go and run behind criminal minds and solve cases by just observing bodies and clues and... " The doctor let out a long sigh. "You know what I mean. We're completely different from each other and we can't occupy the other's place."

Sherlock looked at the 'new' jumper he was wearing and thought about John's words. He was right. He couldn't just go to surgery and pretend to be a doctor and be with Sarah and act as her boyfriend like John did. And John couldn't go to the Yard and act like him when he didn't have not even a little bit of his brain to deduce a damn thing.

"Fine."

They went to their respective rooms and changed their clothes. Since John never wore a single black suit like he loved to wear, Sherlock had to change to the doctor's classics jeans and a grey jumper. He looked himself in the mirror and tried to accept the fact that the reflection wasn't going to be the same as it used to be. Sherlock could even feel the difference in his hands: now they were shorter, softer and... different. Those were medical hands, not his own hands.

But downstairs, John had to face a closet full of black, expensive suits and purple shirts. All of them were tailored and perfectly made for his new body. Like his flatmate, his reflection in the mirror was different. He wasn't the same obviously, but his eyes... the look in his eyes was still the same. He could feel it. John hoped Sherlock could feel the same.

Finally, Sherlock took John's usually black jacket and John Sherlock's usually scarf and coat.

"Let's go."

After a cab ride, they arrived to the surgery John used to work everyday. It was full of people since it was winter and most of the Londoners had the flu, colds and different pathologies common for the current season.

Sarah was in the kitchen making tea when John arrived with Sherlock just behind him. She really looked surprised to see his boyfriend and his flatmate at the beginning of John's shift. She was expecting a permission to go for a case or maybe another thing but not what they had to tell her.

"WHAT?!"

"Listen, Sarah... I know this is incredible, but it's the truth. You have to believe me."

Sarah wanted to slap 'Sherlock'. "John, make him stop!"

Sarah was looking at John's body not believing what she was hearing. How on Earth they could swap bodies?

John took Sarah's hands, but she was already annoyed and rejected his touch. She went to John and tried to hug him with tears in her eyes, but with an awful sign on his face, John rejected her.

"Sarah, he's not me. Sherlock is inside my body now. I'm John."

She didn't say anything for seconds. It was so strange to hear Sherlock's voice saying those things, and watching John, her John with an horrible expression across his face. Sarah knew John wasn't going to lie to her, so she nodded and tried to understand.

The shorter man was standing in front of them with his arms beside his body and with his chin raised. Typical Sherlock.

"We don't know how this happened, but the only thing we can do is wait," John said soothingly, with his new baritone voice. "I'm going to carry on with my life in Sherlock's body, and he's going to do the same as well."

"Can we go now? I need to go to the Yard."

Sarah looked at them, believing all the words coming from Sherlock's lips- Those were John's words, but now coming from different lips.

"I believe you. I know you John," Sarah said between tears. "You wouldn't lie to me with such a... incredible thing."

John hugged his girlfriend and she felt so strange. His John wasn't the same anymore. Being trapped in the detective's body was going to be a very difficult thing for them. It was strange to feel John through his now long arms and taller body.

"Lucky for you, no one here knows Sherlock. You can work as him without any suspicion."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the scene he was witnessing. How his body was pressed so close against Sarah's and how his long arms were curled into her waist. He felt sick, really sick. But now there were a lot more things to do and one of them was to convince Lestrade and all the idiots from the Yard that he wasn't John, despite the way he looked and that he was Sherlock Holmes, the world's only Consulting Detective.

* * *

><p>"Are you both high? Because I'm not going to believe this -"<p>

DI Lestrade was sitting in his current office and the other two men were sitting across him. They looked like always to him, normal. There wasn't any change. Sherlock was wearing another of those expensive suits, his long coat and his blue scarf and next to him was John, his flatmate and who everyone thought was something else, wearing a pair of jeans and his dark coat.

They _looked_ perfectly fine.

"We are telling you the truth. I'm John."

"Sherlock, you were clean -"

"I'M CLEAN!"

"Not you John -"

"I'm telling you that I'm John! We don't know how we changed! This is serious!"

Lestrade only observed them for a couple of seconds and though about believing or not the 'story' they were trying to make him believe. On one hand, he knew John wasn't a liar. He did't do drugs and he'd never been on drugs. John H. Watson was a trustworthy man, but on the other hand...

"Do you want a proof? I'll stay all day here and I'll be completely useless because I'm John, I'm not him," Sherlock pointed at his own body. "And he's not me!"

They were desperate. Greg could see that in their faces, in their eyes, in their expressions, everything was different. The only thing DI Lestrade could do was believe the story and maybe help them to find a solution. Besides, with those two, anything impossible could be possible.

"What are you going to do?"

"Wait." Sherlock replied.

In that moment Sgt. Donovan went inside the office and glared and them while she handed Lestrade a few folders.

"What's wrong with you? It's like you got up on the wrong side of bed."

"Or the wrong body," Replied Sherlock, annoyed. Sally looked confused at him, not understanding why Doctor Watson was being so rough with her, since he always had been polite, at least during those little moments when they used to exchange a few words.

"So what happened with the fishing?"

"Oh, I'm feeling something. It's like you didn't make home last night and you're wearing somebody else's perfume..."

John didn't say a word, and he kept his gaze down.

Sally looked at him confused and walked to the door not before saying something. "I knew you were going to be just like the freak!"

"Why you keep her here?"

"John- I mean Sherlock, she's good at what she does. Don't worry, I'll talk to her later." Greg said.

John stood up, getting himself ready to leave. "I've better be off to surgery. I'll buy the milk, you get the jam."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Several days later...<em>**

"Tell me sweetie, is there any pain?"

John was examining a five year old girl with a slightly stomach pain who was also feverish. The mother was very worried and the doctor found out his diagnosis in a few minutes after taking the girl's temperature and touching her belly.

"She'll be all right. I'll prescribe her a new medication with strawberry flavour. Give her 10 ml each eight hour and let her stay in bed for at least all day."

Sarah entered the room, and saw how the little girl kissed the doctor's cheek and he smiled at her in return. It still was so weird to her after several days to see Sherlock's face smiling at children and being nice. She knew it was John, but she still impressed by the new body he had.

"Sher- I mean, John. Er... you can take your lunch break now."

John knew without seeing her what she was thinking. They had a solid relationship, not like they were going to get married, but they were being very serious. Now with the body swap thing they felt a little bit distant and he knew it was going to be like that for a while. Despite being in love with the other no matter how they looked like, it was going to be hard to kiss her using Sherlock's lips or hug her using now long arms or do any other thing a couple would do with the detective's body.

"Lunch together?" John suggested.

"... Sure".

* * *

><p>Sherlock went back to Baker Street after a quick walk around London. The streets were different for him now. The height difference was annoying him. Now his shoulder had a large scar and maybe, if the weather wasn't wet at all, he wasn't going to suffer from the limp John always complained about. He couldn't imagine himself walking with a cane, or using that cream the doctor always used to put on his scar.<p>

Before going inside to his flat, Sherlock glanced at the black car parked outside. He knew it. It was just a question of days to expect Mycroft upstairs sitting in his chair claiming he knew all about it and he would move all his contacts to help -

Yes!

Yes, help. Mycroft had a lots of contacts not only in the British Government but also with important personalities from every area in the world. He could help them to get back to their respective bodies and forget all about it.

Mycroft!

"Morning John. I've just arrived but I will love a cup of -"

"Mycroft, you have to help us."

The man who always said he occupied a minor position in the current government narrowed his eyes. To him, Doctor John Watson was desperate and he didn't remember any reports said anything about a possible problem.

"What happened to my brother, Doctor?"

"Mycroft, I'm not John. I'm Sherlock!"

The big brother Holmes glanced at him with curiosity. He didn't smell like alcohol and he knew John wasn't on drugs. But what was happening to him?

"Doctor Watson, I'm afraid I can't -"

"Mycroft you have to believe me. I'm not John!"

* * *

><p>They were having lunch in a modest restaurant in front of the surgery together. She kept her eyes on her plate, trying to avoid Sher- no, John's eyes. Trying to avoid those grey eyes she met in a Chinese circus that now were his boyfriend's eyes.<p>

"Sarah, I know this is going to be hard -"

"John, do you believe we can still be together?"

John frowned. "Wha- Of course we can! Why are you asking?"

She took a sip of her water before answering. "I want to kiss you, but your lips are not the same. I want to take your hand, but it's not the same. I'm in love with who you are, not the way you look. But I can't look at you thinking I'm looking Sherlock Holmes."

The words were within his brain. She was right, he couldn't force her to still doing things they always did without thinking about the body change. But she already said it, they were together because they love each other for who they were, not for the way they looked.

His long fingers touched Sarah's hand and he could feel the warmness and the softness of her skin.

"I want those things too, Sarah. But we don't know how long this is going to take. I'm sorry."

She wiped the tears off her face and smiled at him, taking back his hand. "I'll try John. I'll try because I love you."

And without thinking it twice, she kissed him. Sarah kissed John. She kissed Sherlock's lips

* * *

><p>"And that's it. Do you believe me now?"<p>

Mycroft was cautiously examining his umbrella. "Tell me something that only you and I know and I will believe you."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. He knew what to say to make his brother believe him. A truth or a fact that they only knew, that they never told to anybody else.

Fuck.

OK.

Here we go.

"When I was five I ran to your room after a nightmare and you let me sleep with you and you gave me a teddy bear."

"Sherlock, I have known all this since the first day. I'm impressed how you two seemed to live perfectly the other's life, but my concern is... " Mycroft curled his lips slightly upwards. "How are you both going to handle this... peculiar situation?"

"What do you mean?"

Sherlock Holmes knew that look in his brother's face. He was hiding something.

"Dear brother, you have two different lives. You are happy being behind criminals and living by yourself. But your flatmate, Doctor John Watson is different."

"And?"

Mycroft stood up from the chair and made his own way to the door. "You're Sherlock Holmes inside John Watson's body and you don't have to deal with any partner. But him, he has a woman, dear. And don't make me talk about this again. You know what a woman and a man do when there is physical attraction."

The detective's eyes were wide. He knew John perfectly well. His flatmate was the man who gave a lot of importance to the physical contact and he usually fell for his own carnal instincts. The idea of his body with that woman Sarah made him sick. He really needed to get back to his body as soon as he could and return to his old life.


	3. Crime Scenes and Anderson!

After a long day working and a lot of attention coming from the nurses, to Sarah's horror, John was walking back to his flat wondering what Sherlock could be doing.

The afternoon was calm and the weather was a little bit wet, but John was feeling good, though not good being in the wrong body. He felt good walking along the streets without any pain bothering his leg and his shoulder. But that idea just made him felt a little bit not good, realising Sherlock was having those pains right now instead of him.

Once inside, he found his flatmate wearing his usually blue dressing gown which now was too long for him, working with his microscope and a blood sample.

"I need some blood."

"My day was lovely, thank you." Sherlock didn't say anything, but John sat opposite him and sighed tiredly.

"You kissed her."

John raised his curly head to face Sherlock, who now was looking at him with angry eyes. No matter in which body Sherlock was he would never miss his deductive skills. Now inside John's body he narrowed his eyes dramatically waiting for an answer.

"And what do you want me to say?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Why you did it."

The doctor put the kettle on and prepared his mug with a tea bag before facing his flatmate again. It was going to be hard, not only for him.

"I can't stop kissing my girlfriend and seeing her they way I was used to. She wanted us to take a break because she couldn't touch me thinking she was touching you."

"And she did! She touched me!" Sherlock said dramatically as if by kissing his body would suffer some kind of mutation or something like that.

John poured hot water in his mug and continued explaining things to Sherlock, who seemed to be deaf to his words.

"We talked, and we decided to continue with out relationship. We love each other for who we are, not for how we look -"

"Obviously."

"Let me finish. We'll continue our relationship, so please find a cure for this soon."

Sherlock prepared the injection ready to extract some blood from his own arm. He wanted to be again Sherlock Holmes in his body. He couldn't even tolerate the idea of watching his body with a woman. A woman he used to dislike since the beginning.

"I will, before you have intercourse using my body."

John's eyes widened. "We're not -"

"I know you John. You can't stop shagging her. And talking about it makes you hard," Sherlock pointed at John's crotch. "I've got an erection because of that woman!"

John left his tea and ran to the shower. He needed one, a very cold one for sure.

* * *

><p>With John and his body in cold water, Sherlock took both blood samples and examined them using his microscope. They didn't show anything strange, in fact they were completely healthy with normal red and white cells. So how he could get a solution? He needed to be back to his body as soon as possible.<p>

He checked on his mobile several times waiting for any texts from either Lestrade asking for his help and offering him a good case or from Mycroft with a cure for his condition. This new word was now incorporated to his wide vocabulary and being used a lot more now to name his current situation.

He analysed all his theories. Food was discarded since he and the doctor haven't been eating the same things lately - John was having dinner at Sarah's and he was working and food always slowed him down. The use of personal items was discarded too since they had different soaps and used different brands of shampoo and air conditioner, obviously. Moriarty was out of sign since after the pool incident. So could it be Moriarty?

Maybe.

But Sherlock's thoughts were interrupted when his mobile went off. It was a text from Lestrade.

**Triple murder. Regent Street - GL**

Those were good news. Three corpses ready for him and some criminals to chase. Definitely this was the first case since the incident and Sherlock felt ready to go back to action and finally get out this state of boredom that had been haunting him to no end.

With the address, the detective was thinking at least four- no, five possibles theories while he was getting ready to leave. Again he had to chose a pair of blue jeans and a creamy jumper to wear, since he couldn't buy a few suits to wear. John's taste in clothes wasn't that bad, but he felt weird using clothes he had never used before, nor was accustomed to.

John returned from his shower more relaxed and sat on his favourite armchair when Sherlock throw him his black coat and his blue scarf.  
>"Let's go John. We have a serial murderer to catch."<p>

* * *

><p>When they arrived to the crime scene, the police had already closed the area and the forensic team was outside discussing with Anderson.<p>

This time, and as always, Sherlock was walking ahead John. The doctor now could follow his flatmate thanks to his long legs and Sherlock found a little bit more hard to walk fast for the upcoming limp. The weather was wet and he could feel a slightly pain in his left leg, but he ignored it and made his way to the scene.

"Ah, Doctor Watson. I see now you change roles? Weren't you the one always behind the freak?"

Sherlock stopped at the door and glanced at Anderson, ready to say something and torture him with his deductions. Since he had always been taller than John, now Sherlock needed to raise his head to see the forensic man.

"Don't talk Anderson, your awful breath is already slowing me down."

He entered the house and John followed him not without smiling at Anderson who was looking at them confusedly. Dr Watson, best know in the Yard for being _'the freak's pet'_ or sometimes _'the freak's boyfriend' _was now insulting Anderson like he was Sherlock, and the detective smiled at him.

What was going on?

"What we got?"

Lestrade glanced at them, looking how John- no, Sherlock - and handed him a pair of white gloves ready to examine the crime scene. John, yes, John was standing behind him with his hands in his coat pockets.

The Detective Inspector was still confused and he started doubting about the chat they had several days ago. This really was a body swap or were they high trying to fool him? No matter how many times he thought about it, Greg knew John was a good man, trustworthy, and that he would never be involved in drugs. But then Greg knew that with those two everything could be possible.

There were three dead bodies on the floor. Two of them were men and the last one was a woman. It was clear that someone had moved the bodies to that place since there wasn't any trace of blood and the positions were clearly strategic.

Sherlock made his way to the bodies and touched and observed them for two full minutes, all the time he needed when Anderson appeared behind them and just stood by the door, watching how the doctor was taking the freak's place and how Sherlock was there just watching.

"Clearly this is a murder. There isn't any trace of blood. Who killed them didn't do it here, at least not in this room. The woman slept with these two," Sherlock said, pointing at the two men lying dead on the floor. "One of them, I presume the blonde one was her boyfriend and the other one was her lover. She didn't -"

"What's this? We have two freaks now?" Anderson asked surprised, yet mockingly.

The three men turned to see the forensic man watching them with quizzical look in his face. Sherlock knew he didn't have the slightest idea of what they were going through so instead of explain something he decided to torture again the man he loved to fight with.

"Oh, I see. Your little adventures with Sgt Donovan had to end since your wife is back and... no, I will stop here. I don't want everyone to hear your sexual issues."

John couldn't help but laugh as Donovan, who was just behind the door, heard everything and burst into the scene.

"What's wrong with you, Dr Watson?" She asked, pink tainted cheeks.

Lestrade felt the tension in the scene and placed himself between Sherlock and the angry woman, before she could slap him to say the least.

"He's not Dr Watson, he's Sherlock."

She smiled ironically to her superior and then glanced angrily to the flatmates.

"I know this sounds like a... " Greg didn't know how to explain it. "He's not Sherlock. And he's not John. They swapped bodies -"

"And you expect us to believe you this silly story?" Donovan asked.

Sherlock sighed and walked until he was close enough to Donovan and Lestrade. Anderson got close too. There was a tension in the air that someone could easily cut with a knife. Even the police team was silently watching how they were almost going to fight. Not physically, but verbally for sure.

"Sally, I know you since you were a simple police girl. So don't call this a silly thing. I know you enough to say you're not a stupid human being as Anderson, who only cheats on his wife with you and now that she's back he threw you away. Now, do you believe me or not?"

Donovan just blinked a few times, knowing now that he wasn't the Dr John Watson she used to know. He was the freak inside him. Those words were the freak's words. And something inside that speech made her open her eyes. Her affair with Anderson had been a subject of public discuss within the Yard since the 'Pink' case. And she knew all the Yard felt pity for her, for being the second woman of an stupid man who would never leave his wife.

"I'll check the victim's names."

She left the scene and Sherlock smiled inwardly in triumph.

But Anderson didn't believe him.

"You can fool her, but not me. You're just the freak's pet for not saying his _boyfriend_ and now you are here trying to deduce and work things out as if you were him?" Anderson said. "Please, don't make me laugh!"

This time, John made his way until he was face to face with the forensic man. Anderson tried to step backwards, but he couldn't since he was standing against the wall.

"If you don't want to believe it, it's OK to me. But I'm not Sherlock's pet or boyfriend. And don't call him freak anymore," John said, using his now new dark, baritone voice. "Am I clear, Anderson? Or do I need to practise my military training in your face?"

Sherlock smiled slightly and Lestrade tried to separate them before John could punch Anderson. The other man, far away from turn his back and go out the scene, complained to the Greg and said he would accuse John of threatening him.

"Anderson, go back with the team and take the blood samples to the laboratory. Thank you."

The flatmates exchanged a smile and left the crime scene in silence, enjoying themselves the victory over the stupid forensic man.


	4. Don't Give Up!

**_Several weeks later..._**

He arrived not too early, but not too late to surgery and he had already spot a few patients waiting for him. A little girl smiled at him and he couldn't help but smile back. John spotted Sarah in the waiting room. She changed her haircut, now it was shoulder-length with curls. She was wearing a denim skirt not too short and a white camisole. When she saw him, she greeted him with a slightly kiss on his cheek and a cup of tea. Without saying a single word, John made his way to his office and locked the door. Certainly he was needing a hand job.

* * *

><p>"Got anything?"<p>

Sherlock removed his gloves and looked once again at the dead body lying on the floor. It was a woman in his late forties.

"This body has traces of soap, and certainly someone washed the body after killing her to erase any trace he could have left. Yes, he. She was strangled and she has some bruises in her neck, which means the killer is a man. Probably her lover. But there is some stains in the floor, probably blood. Call Anderson to take the samples and send them to the laboratory. I assure you this blood isn't from her and when you catch the suspect, do a DNA test with the skin under her nails."

Lestrade took some notes and before Sherlock could leave the crime scene he asked him about the situation. It had been weeks since the body swap thing and apparently they hadn't found a 'cure' to go back to their respective bodies. No matter in which body Sherlock was, he was still being the same with his weird manners and personality. It was the same to Lestrade, and even the Yard was already used to see the figure of Doctor Watson every time they had a complicated murder to solve.

"I can't say I'm pleased to be inside John's body."

"And how is he? I know he's still working -"

"I'll send him your regards." Sherlock left the crime scene before Lestrade could start with his interrogatory again and was determined to go back to Baker Street, but he decided to make a stop first...

* * *

><p><strong>Five minutes. Angelo's - SH<strong>

He really didn't know what to think when he read that text. A tiny little voice inside his brain told him something wrong was going on. Angelo's was usually the place where Sherlock always went for food when he was stressed or in a bad mood, for example, when he was angry after not having succeess looking for the words in Luckis and Van Coon's books

**I have my lunch with Sarah - JW**

**We need to talk. Five minutes. Angelo's - SH**

Yes, definitely something wrong was going on.

When he arrived at the Italian restaurant, Sherlock was already sitting in his usual table near the window and with two plates with pasta, warm ready for him. Immediately Angelo, the owner of the place, made his way to the table to greet him. Apparently Sherlock didn't explained the man about the body thing because he shook his hand happily like he used to do with Sherlock.

"I hope you have something important to tell me -"

"John, you have my permission."

John placed his long hands on the table and then passed one over his face, trying to think what Sherlock was talking about. His dark curls were falling over his forehead and eyes. He remembered he had to go and see some hairdresser but now he needed to concentrate in his flatmate.

"Do enlighten me, Sherlock. I can't read minds like you, remember?"

The only consulting detective in the world closed his eyes and sigh deeply and noisily. It was a wet and cold day and his shoulder was hurting like hell. No matter how much oils or body creams he used, his shoulder always hurt with the weather change. His limp was back, but he hid the stick under the table. He wasn't the man who couldn't say what he wanted to say, but this time it was hard.

Even for him.

Damn.

"You have my permission to do whatever you want with my body. If you want to shag that woman, go. If you want to have a tattoo, go. If you want to cut my hair -"

What the fuck?

"What's in your bloody head?"

For the first time since they were flatmates Sherlock was speechless in front of the Doctor. John looked angry and Sherlock could recognize his own face when he was angry, even when now his facial features were different.

"It had been months, John. No matter how much I investigate, how much blood samples I look at, we can't go back to our bodies."

* * *

><p>A brunette woman knocked his boss's door and waited patiently for an answer.<p>

"Come in."

She opened the office's door and placed several files on his boss' desk. All of them were neat and organized alphabetically. The man smiled at her gratefully.

"Thank you dear. Where are them?"

"Angelo's."

She handed him her BlackBerry and he nodded at the screen.

"Let's keep the security around them"

* * *

><p>"What? Are you suggesting that -"<p>

Sherlock's mobile went off.

It was Mycroft.

"Tell me."

John looked at Sherlock curling his lips upwards.

God.

The detective took the stick from under the table and made his way to the door, smirking at John.

"Forget everything I told you and let's go. We're going back to our bodies now."


	5. A Puzzle: Jim Moriarty!

"Mycroft, is _food_ affecting your brain?" Sherlock asked mockingly. "Again?"

Sherlock looked at him with the same expression he would use when he felt exasperated by his brother. But instead of using his grey and piercing eyes, John's blue eyes and his facial expression were the used features now. In front of them was placed a black folder with photographs and files. John couldn't help but look at them, trying to deduce or work things out like Sherlock, but he couldn't.

"Not food, my dear little brother. I've found a way you can return to your respective bodies. But it seems like you don't like it. Is it possible that now you gave up and -"

"I do not do such things." Sherlock snapped, cutting Mycroft off.

The office was silent for long seconds. Not a single noise was made in that room, but Anthea and his quickly typing on her BlackBerry. Suddenly, John could feel his flatmate nodding annoyingly, and sitting in front of Mycroft's desk. He did the same and the politician handed them two folders. Sherlock could see a name written on the files, a name he knew was behind their body change.

Moriarty.

* * *

><p>It wasn't hard to get into Sherlock Holmes's life. The only thing you need is to be a patient person.<p>

He was a patient person.

He waited for him for a very long time. He played with him for months using the other's desires and his powers to help them. He made him dance. A Consulting Criminal, the only one in the world, and he invented the job just like him. Every human being had his nemesis, and Sherlock Holmes wasn't an exception.

Every man in the world has enemies. And Sherlock Holmes had his own. And this man was all his opposite. A perfect mix to make the world more exciting.

"Catch... you... later."

Jim Moriarty could remember those words perfectly. He showed Sherlock Holmes a tiny glance of his power. But it seemed to be not enough for him, always trying to solve everything.

"It seems like I gave you a puzzle you can't solve, _Sherlock Holmes._"

* * *

><p>John found the same name written in his folder. There wasn't any pictures of him. They were the only ones who knew his face. Not even all the criminals they caught. John Watson knew Jim Moriarty was a puzzle Sherlock couldn't solve.<p>

Some time ago his flatmate trusted him his brother, Mycroft Holmes, was cleverer than him, but he was wasting his intelligence sitting behind a posh desk in a boring office in a boring building named 'British Parliament'.

Sherlock needed to trust Mycroft in this one.

Maybe Mycroft could help them to solve that puzzle which was costing them their own bodies, and lives.


	6. Damn Mycroft!

"So that is my suggestion and -"

"No. No. No and definitely no." Sherlock said, cutting his brother off.

No!

Damn Mycroft!

"Sherlock -"

"No John! This is the most stupid thing he could have ever said."

The detective stood up and walked to the window until he saw his reflection on the glass. He was short, blonde, he had wrinkles around his eyes and his nose was bigger. He had a wounded shoulder and a psychosomatic limp. His eyes were blue, not grey anymore.

"You can take it or you can leave it. I have all my most reliable sources working on it and I can assure you this is going to fix your... problem." Mycroft said, trying to sound reassuringly.

John looked at the older Holmes and nodded. He was convinced that no matter how crazy or silly the idea sounded, everything could help. He really missed his body, his height and weight and when being inside his flatmate and friend's body was good in some aspects, he knew Sherlock wasn't enjoying it at all.

Sherlock was suffering. The Detective wasn't used to walk with a stick, or feel the pain in his shoulder once in a while. And he was a man and it was getting hard to see your girlfriend everyday without doing... anything.

They needed to be back at their bodies, and their lives.

"Sherlock -"

"Take us, Mycroft. Take us with her."

Damn Mycroft!


	7. Elizabeth What!

"Sherlock-"

"Take us, Mycroft. Take us with _her._"

* * *

><p>The car ride was silent. The only noise that could be heard was Mycroft's papers in his hands and the quick typing of Anthea on her BlackBerry.<p>

"What will you want me to do?"

John looked at Sherlock, not knowing to whom that question was addressed to. The detective kept his gaze on the window, still waiting for an answer.

"Nothing, Sherlock. I'm doing this because you are my brother. Your mind seems to have troubles processing it, I know."

The brunette assistant stopped typing and looked at them both in slight panic. John could see that and started panicking as well. The young Holmes curled his right hand into a fist and his left hand was notoriously shaking. Far away of showing any emotion, Mycroft kept his gaze on his young brother trapped in Doctor Watson's body until the car stopped when they reached their destination.

"There is nothing my mind has trouble with," Sherlock said firmly. "I know you will scrub_ 'your help'_ on my face every day until I die."

"Hardly."

* * *

><p>The place wasn't as John had imagined before. In films you can see a place like that decorated with strange figures, jar with potions, eyes, whatever. But the apartment was far away from that. It was very cosy with blue walls and a small table with a vase with strange blue roses over it. Strangely enough, everything there was blue, including the carpet, the sofa, the chairs and the curtains.<p>

"Have a sit. She will come soon." Mycroft said and the _'affected'_ men sat one next the other in the largest sofa.

"What's her name?" John asked with Sherlock's deep voice when she appeared.

"Elizabeth. Nice to meet you Doctor Watson."

He stood up as she appeared and both shook their hands. He was surprised by her beauty and mostly how she called him 'Doctor Watson' even when he was in Sherlock's body. Mycroft might have told her about them.

Or maybe not.

The detective and his brother also stood up and shook hands with her.

Elizabeth was short and blonde with pale skin and deep blue eyes, almost turquoise. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a blue shirt. Her long and blonde hair was falling over each shoulder till her waist. She sat in front of them and for seconds she looked at them both, like Sherlock when he was deducing something.

"How are you, Mr. Holmes?"

The question was addressed to Mycroft, who with a modest smiled replied he was fine revealing a previous connexion between them. A thing Sherlock could see since the moment his brother assured him she was the only one who could help them.

"Body swap. Seems like you have a very _dangerous_ enemy, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock frowned and his blue eyes fell on her. "You do this for a living but you don't get any money, just protection from several members of this government like Mycroft and your name isn't Elizabeth and -"

"Just like I heard. You are just like I heard, you know."

"What do you know about me?"

"Nothing whatsoever, but everything at the same time."


	8. Grandeur!

**Author's note: I'm so so sorry for not updating this sooner! I promise there will be one or two chapters every week! I've edited the previous seven chapters and they do not present major changes, I just corrected my grammar mistakes.**

**Apologies in advance for my mistakes, thanks for reading and please review!**

* * *

><p>"Delusions of <em>grandeur<em>, Mr Holmes," the blonde woman said. "That's your main problem."

Sherlock glared at her with his blue eyes.

What?

"You ought to know we are all tiny, no matter how much grey matter we have inside our skulls."

"You know nothing about me."

Mycroft and John remained silent.

Elizabeth smiled. "I can read you even when you are in the wrong body."

"Can you?" Sherlock asked, defiantly.

"You are a man who won't take a 'no' as an answer, partly because of the way you were raised," the woman raised an eyebrow. "Oedipus complex - not sexual, no..." She bit her lip and frowned. "That happens when mothers do not breastfeed their children enough -"

"Shut up!" Sherlock snapped.

Mycroft shifted on his chair. "Brother -"

"She breastfed Mycroft more than you," Elizabeth said. "That explains how opposite you are. Such a pity."

Both Holmes brothers remained silent.

John didn't know what to say.

They were told, from the very beginning that they were going to see a woman who was going to help them. But now they were discussing who had been more fed and looked after by their mother: Sherlock or Mycroft.

What the fuck?

"Elizabeth," Mycroft cleared his throat. "I believe you said you had the _powers_ to help my brother and his friend."

The woman smiled at Mycroft. "By all means."

"We are not here to discuss Mummy's methodology -"

"The way you were raised, Mycroft." Elizabeth corrected him. "They way we were raised says a lot about us once we reach adulthood. Look at yourself: so neat, so correct, not a single stain in your clothes," the woman smirked. "Look at your little brother now."

"Elizabeth -"

"Shut up!" Sherlock, said, cutting his brother off, and preventing Elizabeth from saying what she was about to say.

"Look at little Sherlock: he's so clever that he doesn't know what to do with his brain," she smiled at him. "He could have been a philosopher, a politician... a scientist and yet you chose to be a private detective -"

"Consulting detective." Sherlock corrected her.

"- Is it because you wanted to be a _pirate_, sail the seven seas and find the treasures we were told as children?"

What?

Sherlock's mouth was slightly opened.

John didn't know what to say, what to think.

What was happening?

"You." Sherlock gasped. "_You?_"

Elizabeth smiled. "You deleted me, then."

"You could read me because you know me."

"Of course. How could I have forgotten you, Sherlock?"

John's eyes were as wide as saucers.

Sherlock and this woman... knew each other?

Sherlock!

Elizabeth glanced at her watch. "Oh, time flies when you're enjoying the moment. Tea, gentlemen?"

Mycroft merely nodded.

"Um... sure."

"What about you, Sherly?"

"Don't call me Sherly!"

Elizabeth smiled. "My, but you rather_ liked_ to be called 'Sherly'."

"No I didn't!"

What?

* * *

><p>"Do you like your tea, Doctor Watson?"<p>

God, it was a fucking good tea.

"The best I've ever had," John said and smiled. "Thank you."

John noticed Elizabeth's blue eyes were on him.

"And you, Sherlock? Do you like your coffee? Black, two sugars, no milk."

Sherlock bit his lip. "Mycroft said you can help us."

"Yes, I can."

"How?"

* * *

><p>"She was your girlfriend, wasn't she?"<p>

"Shut up!"

Yes, she was then.

John sat on his chair and looked at his flatmate. "She seems to know you well."

"We went to uni together."

"And?"

Sherlock glared at him. "And what?"

"Well, the way she looked at you..." John trailed off and smiled. "And how she talked about you -"

"We were... acquaintances. That's all you need to know."

John remained silent.

"I need to think," Sherlock said, standing up from his chair and heading to his room. "Oh, and you'd better use more conditioner when you wash my hair!"


	9. Naive!

**Author's note: Trying a new writing style - hope it doesn't look too silly.**

**Apologies in advance for my mistakes. Thanks for reading and please, review!**

* * *

><p>John made himself sure he used quite a good amount of conditioner every time he washed his hair - Sherlock's hair. The detective complained for days about the state of his hair and John learned how meticulous Sherlock was when it was about his hair, his nails, his damn face and not to grown a beard because he said he would look too silly.<p>

It was the doctor's day off and Sherlock was away on a case or that's what he said when Mycroft arrived in one of his unexpected visits and asked for a cup of tea.

"She was his girlfriend?"

John smiled.

Because he damn knew it!

Mycroft nodded. "She was the daughter of our housekeeper. Mary was her name. She was a single mother so Mummy let Elizabeth live with us," the politician started. "She and Sherlock grew up together."

"So they were, um, together since they were kids?"

"No. Both despised each other."

Really?

John frowned. "Oh."

"Elizabeth has, shall we say... special skills Sherlock does not approve of," Mycroft explained. "Never did, actually. Then they grew up, hormonal activities in between and then they had each other's tongues down each other's throats."

John coughed nervously.

Is always a lot not good the way Mycroft referred to Sherlock.

Specially the words he liked to use.

"I thought Sherlock was... you know," John blushed. "Married to his work?"

Mycroft laughed.

The politician actually _laughed_.

Bastard!

"Don't be naive, John," Mycroft sipped the last of his tea. "Sherlock never got over Elizabeth."

"Why they broke up?"

When John watched the politician shifting on his chair and glancing at his umbrella, he knew the story to come was either too long or something Mycroft was not fond of.

"Elizabeth can tell your life story but just looking into your eyes - that's her main skill. But Sherlock has to take a closer look at your shirt, the way you lace your shoes, how you stand, your facial features..." Mycroft sighed. "Both couldn't stand a relationship where they knew everything about each other without even talking. And my brother is not the most talkative person in this world. You, Doctor Watson, know more than anyone present at this flat that women like to be asked questions regarding their mood state -"

"She left him?"

Mycroft nodded.

Oh my God, really?

* * *

><p>"Why bringing old scores?"<p>

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "You're seeing someone."

Elizabeth shrugged.

"He's important to you."

"Yes, he is," Elizabeth admitted. "He's nice, funny, he talks and doesn't need to look at my shoe laces to know whether I want milk in my tea. He _asks_."

Sherlock said nothing.

"About the body swap, don't worry. You'll go back to your body soon."

"How do you know?"

She looked at him as if what he had just asked was rather obvious.

"I can't stand being in John's body."

"Me neither," Elizabeth smiled. "I rather miss your eyes."

Sherlock looked into his eyes, but remained silent.

"There's a man behind all this. Moriarty."

"A friend of mine," the detective said dismissively.

"Friend?"

Sherlock got to his feet. "You can really fix this?"

"For you, of course."


	10. Serious!

"Are you really doubting?" Elizabeth smiled. "My, my. It seems someone's grown rather fond of his friend's body."

"Liz, stop it!"

She raised an eyebrow.

"It's been ages since you last called me Liz."

Sherlock blushed. "Are you going to help me yes or no?"

"I'd kiss you right now if it wasn't for those thin lips. I quite miss yours, you know."

* * *

><p>"Seb," Moriarty called his employee. "Seb, I think it's time."<p>

"Are you sure, sir?"

Moriarty just nodded. "Oh yes. 'S time for the show to start!"

* * *

><p>"It hurts, Doctor Watson!"<p>

John smiled to the little girl and handed her a little lollipop. "It's okay sweety. It's just your tummy. You just ate too many cookies. What if we make a promise?"

"A pinky promise?"

"Yes. You don't eat too many cookies and I promise you your tummy won't bother you any more. Pinky promise?" John asked, offering the little girl Sherlock's pinky finger, not his, and smiled when the girl laced her little pinky finger too.

"Pinky promise!"

The little girl's mother smiled broadly. "Thank you, Doctor Watson," she said seductively. "You're such a good doctor."

John got used to get women's attention, more now that he was in Sherlock's body. He was very well aware Sherlock was much more attractive than him due to the fact Sherlock's was taller, he had strange features, his long lean body allowed him to wear those tailored suits and so on.

But John couldn't accept those comments, those flirting moments since he was dating Sarah and it was not his body he was in.

"Er, thank you. It was nothing."

John opened the door of his office to his patient and her mother. The little girl pressed a sloppy kiss to his (Sherlock's) cheek. Her mother did the same, but left traces of pink lipstick.

"Good bye, Doctor."

"Yeah."

The woman and her child left and John couldn't stop himself and looked at the woman's arse.

And he did not feel someone was looking at him.

"Cheating on Sarah using my body?"

"Sher-"

"Shut up. Don't even bother. Take that lipstick off my cheek!"

John sat on his chair behind his desk and watched his friend, the great detective Sherlock Holmes, now reduced to five foot something.

"Mycroft stopped by -"

"And told you about Elizabeth and me."

"Yeah but -"

"Irrelevant," Sherlock sat across him. "I found it John."

"What?"

Sherlock looked at his friend, who was in his body, and realised that in less than a few hours, he would be back to his body.

* * *

><p>Elizabeth looked at the cards displayed all over her table.<p>

This Moriarty was not to be ignored.

James Moriarty was the most dangerous criminal mind the world had ever seen.

And she had to tell Sherlock.

* * *

><p>"You're joking, right?" John laughed. "Sherlock that's -" he snorted. "Sherlock,<em> please<em>."

"I'm serious, John!"

Serious!

"You're pulling at my leg -"

"Listen to me, and listen to me carefully," Sherlock said dangerously, using John's most deepest voice. "I'm tired of being inside this body - your body. I can's stand being this short. I hate this hair, this face, these hands. I have to use a fucking chair reach a book from the top shelf -"

"And you think I fucking like having to shave every single day? You won't let me go to work if I don't comb your damn curls -"

"And what do you think I feel when I see you - my body when you're with that woman Susan!"

"Sarah!"

"I don't care!"

"We haven't even had sex -"

"I don't believe you!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake -"

"Exactly!" Sherlock slammed John's little hand onto the table. "John, this is the last thing I can think of. We'd better do this and do this now."

Shit.

John merely nodded.


	11. Bastards!

Both left the surgery John worked at, not before John told Sarah they might have found the cure for their 'incident' and that they were coming back soon. Sarah merely nodded, held his long hand, Sherlock's hand and made him promise they would take care of themselves.

Sherlock hailed a cab and both got in. The detective told the cabbie where to go and sunk into the back seat.

"You okay?"

"Hmm. Of course."

"Was Elizabeth your girlfriend?"

"Why asking what you already know?"

John shrugged. "What happened there?"

"I couldn't give her what she wanted," Sherlock confessed. "Neither could she."

"She... she really has powers?"

Sherlock sighed. "Yes. She's... she's not like anyone else."

Suddenly, both men were so immersed into their own conversation neither of them realised the cabbie was not taking them to their destination.

But to a trap.

* * *

><p>"All done?"<p>

Moran nodded. "All done."

"Snipers? Bomb?"

"All of it."

"The pool's clean?"

"All of it."

Fantastic.

Jim Moriarty smiled and started fixing his Westwood suit.

His battle dress.

* * *

><p>The last thing they remembered was someone hitting Sherlock - John - in the head with the back of a gun and someone dragging John - Sherlock - out of the car.<p>

And everything went black.

* * *

><p>"They are at Bristol South Swimming Pool," Anthea said, her voice as usual calm, but her eyes were fixed on her mobile and her thumbs were furiously tipping something down.<p>

Mycroft nodded. "Alert DI Lestrade."

"He's so clever."

The politician's eyes fell on Elizabeth. "He?"

She nodded. "Yes. Moriarty."

Clever!

* * *

><p>When Sherlock opened his eyes, he found himself lying on the cold floor of a swimming pool.<p>

And next to him was a gun.

He slowly stood up and felt a burning feeling on his head.

When he reached for the gun and tried to stand up, he realised he had changed. Again.

His legs were long and his hands were heavier -he had long fingers again and he touched his head: curls. He had curls.

He was back into his body!

"Clever, isn't it?"

"John?"

And there he was John.

"John? We're back -"

"What does it feel like?" John asked, his voice cracking.

Sherlock frowned. "John?"

"What does it feel like..." John took a deep breath and opened his jacket, revealing a bomb tied to his chest. "to be used like this?"

The detective soon realised someone was telling John what to say.

Bastards!

"Who are you?"

"Haven't you already guessed?" John asked Sherlock. "This is just a glimpse, Sherlock. Just a tiny little glimpse of all the things I'm capable of."

"Stop it!"

"What do you say, Sherlock..." John said, his eyes on the floor. "Should I blow Doctor Watson off?"

"Stop it!"

From behind John, Jim Moriarty appeared.

"What was it like to be in the other's body?" Jim asked, mockingly. "Did you have fun?"

"How you did it?" Sherlock demanded, holding a gun and aiming at Moriarty.

Jim smiled. "You can talk, Johnny boy."

John said nothing.

"How you did it?" Sherlock repeated again.

Jim shook his head disappointedly. "You think I'm gonna tell you? Please. I was -" Moriarty's phone went off. "Do you mind if I take it?"

"Oh, no."

"Hello... yes, of course it's me, what do you want?... Say that again!" Jim bellowed. "Say that again and know if you're lying to me I'll find you and I'll skin you... okay." Jim turned to both John and Sherlock. "I'll let you go now..."

Both John and Sherlock said nothing.

"We'll see each other soon, Sherlock. Very soon."

"Looking forward to it."

As soon as Moriarty was gone, Sherlock run to John and helped him to get that bomb off his chest. "You okay?"

"_'Looking forward to it'_, really?" John quoted Sherlock sarcastically. "I had a bomb tied to my chest!"

"We're fine now."

John shook his head. "What do you think made him change his mind?"

Sherlock said nothing for a moment. "The question is... who?"


	12. Okay!

**AN: This is the last chapter - epilogue! Thanks to everyone who followed and read this!**

* * *

><p>Sherlock stopped typing and looked at his flatmate.<p>

"Weren't you going out with Susan?"

"Sarah."

"It's the same."

"No, it's not the same."

Okay!

John continued drinking his tea when realisation hit him. "And since when do you care whether I go out or not?"

"She left you."

"Why you ask if you already know?"

Sherlock chuckled.

"And what about Elizabeth?"

"What about her?"

"Did you see her again?"

Sherlock looked away. "No."

"Pity."

Sherlock frowned. "What are you implying?"

"Well," John left his tea aside. "one could see how much she likes you."

The detective remained silent.

"And you like her too -"

"Married to my work, remember?"

John smiled to himself. "I'm going to Dublin next week. Try not to forget okay? I don't want to come home and find you talking to my empty chair again."

"I don't do such thing."

"Yeah, whatever."

* * *

><p><em><strong>A week later...<strong>_

"Look, it's a six! There's no point in my leaving the flat for anything less than a seven. We agreed. Now, go back. Show me the grass."

John looked at the computer screen and sighed. "When did we agree that?"

"We agreed it yesterday."

"I wasn't even at home yesterday. I was in Dublin."

Sherlock shrugged. "So, did you get as much female attention as you used to when you were in my body?"

John smiled. "You wanker."

**Fin.**


End file.
